


body next to another

by introductory



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Author's Favorite, F/M, M/M, Polyamory, V-Shaped Relationship, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory/pseuds/introductory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It's not a competition, and you know that," says Moira; her tone isn't reproachful.  "You don't need to prove anything.  To either of us—or to yourself."</i>
</p><p>Erik and Moira agree to time-share Charles.  It goes better than expected, for a certain value of better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	body next to another

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer:_ I know nothing about poly relationships besides having a few poly friends and reading sexuality blogs. Consider this a mono-person's attempt to imagine navigating a poly relationship.
> 
> If anyone wants to take any of the ideas in this fic and run with them, please do go ahead. I wrote this rather quickly and there's probably so much more to be said about the three of them.

It occurs to Erik in the middle of negotiating Charles's daily sleeping schedule that this wasn't remotely what he had expected when Charles first leaned in and kissed him.

It occurs to him, too, that, despite everything, this works for him.

 

—

 

There are rules. There would have been rules even if it had only been the two of them, but the addition of Moira (Charles propositioned her first, technically, but Erik's possessiveness runs miles deep and Charles had been making eyes at Erik long before he first slept with Moira) meant the rules needed to be verbalized, reworded carefully, agreed upon by all parties involved. The rules are mostly for Charles, who overindulges and babbles when he's excited and doesn't seem to understand why Erik, who spends inordinate amounts of time pleasing and being pleased by Charles, would want him to keep half his life a secret.

The rules are:

1\. no permanent marks  
2\. no sleeping with both Moira and Erik on the same night  
3\. no bringing up the third party in conversation unless Moira or Erik brings them up first  
4\. no bringing up the relationship in public  
5\. no sleeping with one party three nights in a row  
6\. if anyone sleeps with someone outside the group, everyone has to start using protection  
7\. anyone can leave, any time.

Erik adds two additional rules for Charles, between the two of them:

8\. no mind-reading, during sex or otherwise  
9\. don't ever say _I'm yours_.

 

—

 

It's not to say that he doesn't get jealous of Moira, or that he never tries to blow Charles's mind every time he gets him alone in bed (or the library, or Charles's study). Neither Erik nor Moira have the time or energy to handle Charles full-time, and just like Erik has nights where he finds Charles's company more tiresome than invigorating, he's sure Moira has nights where she'd rather be alone, strategizing or reading or doing whatever it is a semi-rogue CIA agent does in her free time.

Tonight is supposed to be Erik's turn with Charles, but after Charles shows up at Erik's door with a headache so intense Erik can feel the pain wafting off of him, he insists Charles get some rest and then leaves him there. He intends to go for a walk, get some fresh air, but Moira's sitting at the kitchen table, a map spread out in front of her and the end of a pen in her mouth, and he stops in the doorway and clears his throat.[](http://statcounter.com/tumblr/)

Moira's head shoots up in surprise. "Oh, it's you," she says, recovering her dropped pen. "I thought you were supposed to be with Charles—is he all right? Did something happen?"

Erik shakes his head. "He's fine. Just got a headache, I'm letting him sleep it off."

"I told him he was overworking himself," says Moira. "He's spending too much time in the basement with Henry, it was bound to catch up with him sometime." She makes a mark on the map with her pen. "Do you want some coffee?"

"No, thanks," says Erik. After a second he moves to stand closer to the table, but doesn't sit down, instead looking over her shoulder at the map. It's a mostly empty expanse of blue, but Moira's marked down positions and flight routes for a military scramble out of Miami. "Making contingencies?"

"Mm," says Moira. "They won't be any use to us if we run into trouble, but we might need them afterwards to destroy the jet and any evidence that we've been there."

"Comforting." Erik doesn't like the idea of cremation by long-range missile, but he supposes he's long since forfeited his right to a proper burial. "Let's try not to let that happen." He goes to fill up a glass of water from the tap, downing it in one go. "I'm going out for a walk; I'll be back in an hour."

Moira doesn't say anything, and when he stops in the doorway and glances back at her, she's looking in his direction.

Erik says, "What?"

"It's not a competition, and you know that," says Moira; her tone isn't reproachful. "You don't need to prove anything. To either of us—or to yourself."

"I do know that," Erik says, "and I'm not."

This isn't the first conversation they've had about Charles, but they usually try to avoid discussing him. Erik's disdain for her has mostly faded, but he'd never go so far as to say they're friends. Sharing Charles with him seems to make her think she's entitled to a familiarity that she hasn't earned. Still, he has an obligation to hear her out. Charles cares about her; the least Erik can do is try to figure out why.

"If you say so." Moira holds up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "We talk about you sometimes, Charles and I, and he thinks—he thinks you're afraid of losing him." She gives him a half-smile. "I'm just saying, Erik—he loves you, too."

"I don't need you to tell me that," says Erik. "Good night, Moira."

 

—

 

Charles leaned in and kissed him and it was like the biggest revelation in the world, like everything coming together all at once, miraculously, unexpectedly. He tasted faintly like tea and smiled against Erik's mouth when he reached up to cup Charles's jaw, when he twined his fingers in Charles's hair. Erik clung to him, unwilling to let go—afraid that the second he did, Charles would simply disappear and Erik would have nothing to hold onto.

 

—

 

Charles's feet are cold under the blankets when Erik slides in next to him. He's still sleeping, folded in on himself like a child, and Erik spoons up behind him, wraps an arm around his stomach to hold him there.

"Erik." Charles stirs awake in his arms, exuding warmth and worry as he turns to face Erik. "I was wondering where you'd gone."

"It was just a short walk," says Erik. Charles's eyes are still closed, and Erik brushes a kiss to each eyelid and then his mouth. "Go back to sleep."

"I felt you and Moira talking," says Charles, soft and sleepy. "What was it about?"

Erik sighs against the top of Charles's head. "Strategy," he says, "nothing important."

"All right." Charles is drifting off again—Erik can feel it in the way his muscles relax, the way his focus dissipates just as suddenly as it appeared. Erik holds him close, listens to his tiny puffs of breath. Does Moira do the same thing, holding Charles as he sleeps? Or does Charles hold her instead, does Charles wrap himself around her like a warm blanket, pulsing drowsy affection like an anaesthetic? Does he slide up against her mind in sleep the way he appears by Erik's side in his nightmares, holding the hand of his fourteen-year-old self and promising it will all be all right?

Erik's heart is barely big enough for one person; he doesn't understand how Charles's is big enough to handle two.

When he dreams that night, it's of himself and Charles and Moira planting coins and broken glass in the garden. Moira is wearing a long white dress, and there's dirt on her knees, and when she laughs Charles starts to laugh, too, and Erik's too busy wiping his hands on his trousers to remember not to join in.

 

—

 

Erik adds yet another rule, this time between the three of them:

10\. talk.


End file.
